trying not to get too close to the adults.
It was not a big crowd. Like Nikki, Drake was an only child. His parents were deceased, and his rigid, domineering nature meant he didn’t have a lot of friends. It was hard to cozy up to someone who insisted on control at any price. And then there was that business about grudges. Drake’s anger had great stamina; he could stay mad forever.
Somewhere in the gathering were Nikki’s two closest friends, Dixie McPherson and Carlisle Bartlett. Both were flight attendants at Aries Airlines, where Nikki was a pilot. They had worked together for the past ten years, starting when the company was still fairly new and small, and over the years there had been many times they’d have been lost without one another. Like now. Although Dixie and Carlisle were both involved in serious relationships, Nikki had been on her own since the divorce. Oddly, as she looked down at the black earth that would cover her dead ex-husband, an arm around each of her children, she felt less alone now.
The mourners filed past Nikki and the kids. “So sorry,” they murmured. “He’ll be missed.” Or, “Hang in there, kids. Try to remember the good times you had with your dad.” April excused herself and went to join her friends, who immediately embraced her. Jared’s friends were probably considered too young by their parents to attend.
Nikki shook hands and thanked each person, but Opal accepted condolences as though Drake were her son, inviting everyone back to Drake’s house for refreshments. Dixie and Carlisle waited till the last person had left, and April bid her friends goodbye and returned to Nikki’s side.
“How’re you holding up?” Dixie asked, while Carlisle simply filled his arms with April and Jared.
“She’s doing very well, aren’t you, Nicole?” Opal replied for her. Precious snarled.
“I’m doing okay. Are you coming over to the house?”
Before Dixie could answer, April pulled herself free of Carlisle’s arms and, tears in her voice, asked, “Do we have to just keep doing this? Over and over and over?”
Nikki couldn’t imagine her pain. The kids had had a hard time with their dad, but they had loved him. The hell of it was, she thought as she looked at Opal, you loved your parents even when you hated them. As for Jared, he just stared out at nothing, his detachment as troubling as April’s tears.
“Oh, April,” Opal said. “People are going to be there, sweet. It’s the proper thing to do. Say a few kind words about the departed…offer sympathy…And your friends will be there.”
“No, they won’t, Grandma. I told them not to come.”
“But we invited—”
“So? Do we have to?”
“It’s your house, April,” Nikki interjected. “I think Grandma’s just trying to do the right thing….”
“What a pain,” Jared muttered, giving the ground a kick.
“We don’t want to seem rude,” Opal said.
Buck grunted and turned away, heading for his car.
This whole reception thing her mother had planned was not for Opal, Nikki realized, and certainly not for herself. It was for April and Jared. And if they didn’t want to do this…
“Um, guys,” she said to Dixie and Carlisle, “can you take my mother to the house? We’re going to beg off. I’ll see you later.”
“Thatta girl,” Carlisle cheered.
“Nicole! You can’t do that!”
“Of course I can, Mother. We’ll be along later. Come on, kids. I have an idea.”
With an arm around each, she walked them right past the funeral parlor’s limo to her car.
Nikki had been born thirty-nine years before and named Nicole Evelyn Burgess. At that time, Buck Burgess was a twenty-seven-year-old aviator who worked a lot of part-time jobs. He dusted crops, flew cargo, gave lessons, took charters, sometimes buzzed the Grand Canyon. He also pumped gas, washed planes, swept out hangars, turned a wrench here and there—anything to be around the small municipal airport just outside Phoenix, Arizona. On the day of her birth he bought a twenty-year-old Stearman biplane and christened her the Jazzie One. It was the first plane Nikki learned to fly.
A few years later, rather than buying his wife jewelry or a larger house or new car, he bought into the fixed-base operation at the airport and became a partner. Still later, after Opal left him for a man without engine grease under his nails, Buck bought the rest of the operation. It then became Burgess Aviation and the place where Nikki grew up, because when Opal left Buck, she also left Nikki. “I’m not an idiot,” she had said. “I know Nikki will be happier with you.”
Although that was true, Nikki had been only nine at the time, and she felt as if her whole life had fallen apart. If not for the flying, she’d have been lost.
So that was where Nikki took her kids after the funeral—to Papa’s airport. Buck was already there and helped her unleash the Jazzie One from her anchors.
“Me first, Mom,” April said. “Please?”
Through the whole miserable ordeal of Drake’s death, this one thing lifted Nikki’s heart, that April would reach for the sky in an effort to come to terms with her grief. April was okay with flying and knew how. She could hardly escape it with her grandfather the owner of a large and successful fixed-base operation and her mother a Boeing 767 captain. But she didn’t love it the way Nikki did, or Buck and Jared, so her eagerness was all the more precious to Nikki.
She’d take the kids out for a few loops over the desert, a little wild-horse chasing up where it was cool blue and clean and quiet. In all the tough times of her life—whether she’d been stood up for the Homecoming dance or going through a divorce—nothing could breathe new life into Nikki like the sun and wind on her face and the music of the biplane wires as she soared through the sky.
The instant she had traded her dark blue funeral suit and pumps for the mechanic’s overalls and boots that she kept in a locker at the airport, Nikki had felt instantly more like herself. She’d found some sweats and tennis shoes in the same locker for April to use. Her daughter had sniffed them suspiciously and made a face, but she donned them quickly enough.
Nikki then fastened the leather flying helmet on April’s head, pulling back her daughter’s pretty blond hair to adjust the helmet over the earplugs attached to April’s portable CD player. God, but the girl was beautiful, all pale flawless skin, large, luminous blue eyes and thick dusty-black lashes that fell softly against her cheeks as she glanced down. She had inherited her father’s Nordic good looks and lean, sturdy body. Jared, freckled and already broad-shouldered, took after Nikki and Buck.
April climbed into the front of the Stearman, and Nikki into the back, while Buck stood ready on the tarmac with Jared. Nikki could have taken up the Bonanza or Cessna and had both kids in the air together, but flying outside with the wind on your face was so much more therapeutic.
She flipped a couple of switches, pulled the throttle back and yelled, “Contact!” Buck turned the prop, the plane sputtered, the engine caught, and they rumbled out to the runway. In just moments Nikki could feel that familiar lurch as the Jazzie One lifted off the ground and began to soar.
